Follow the Biscuit Crumbs
by The Bickering Kingdom
Summary: When Harry runs away from the Dursleys, it sends the Wizarding World into panic. Meanwhile, Harry's having the time of his life with a Goblin who has anger issues, a House Elf with a drinking problem and the ghost of a thief.
1. The Plan

**Disclaimer: I Do Not Own Harry Potter.**

 **AN : Thank you to kenziescott54 for improving/fixing this.**

Harry Potter knew that his aunt and uncle were stupid, but today it seemed as if they were going for the world record of Biggest Idiots on the Entire Planet.

If they'd had half a brain cell between them, then they would've figured out it was their precious Dudley who broke the kitchen window by throwing a brick through it; Dudley had been in the garden, while Harry had, as usual, been locked in the cupboard under the stairs.

But of course they were still pointing the finger of blame at him.

"We take you in, and are you grateful?! No, you repay us by damaging our home!" Vernon Dursley accused, his fat face red with anger.

"For the last time, you locked me in the cupboard! Unless I've somehow developed the ability to walk through locked doors and become invisible, it wasn't me," Harry protested, although he knew he had a better chance of convincing a deaf giraffe to listen to him than his uncle.

"Do not get smart with me, boy!"

Harry thought to himself that that wasn't hard, seeing as a brick wall was more intelligent than his uncle; but he wisely kept that opinion to himself.

"Vernon," Petunia piped up, "obviously the lock is broken, and he's lying." She glared hard at her nephew, who for once was glaring right back at her.

Over the years he had been blamed for many things that weren't his fault, but for some reason, this was just the last straw for him. He was sick of having to act like was grateful just because he was living in their house, when in reality he was really only living in their cupboard under the stairs. He was allowed to use the bathroom only if he was given permission; he bathed twice week during school time and once during the holidays; and the only reason he was allowed in the kitchen was because, half the time, he was the one doing the cooking.

"I'm not lying!" he burst out. "If I'd done all that, I'd have told you by now. Because, let's be honest, how exactly were you planning to punish me? By locking me in a cupboard and giving me no dinner? Oh, wait - that's what you do every day!"

He stopped, panting, shocked at having said so much in one go.

Vernon and Petunia, also shocked, stood staring at him for one long speechless second. Harry had never, ever had displayed such an outburst before. Harry watched his uncle's face grow redder and redder and his fists clench tighter and tighter, and waited.

He didn't have to wait too long.

"TO THE CUPBOARD!" bellowed Vernon, trembling with rage. "NOW!"

* * *

Harry knew that his aunt and uncle would have to let him out of the cupboard the next day, as it was Monday and he had to attend school. Missing school would raise questions, and raised questions might lead to someone coming to the house and finding out all about little Harry's home life.

He knew that that was the real reason his uncle had never seriously hurt him over the years. Sure, there was the occasional smack, but Vernon had never done anything to leave a noticeable mark, or incapacitate Harry in any way.

But Harry wasn't planning to attend school the next day. He was planning to run away.

He always left the house a good fifteen minutes before Dudley; it was quite enough time for everyone to think he was at school, and by the time anyone knew any different he would be long gone. He wasn't sure where he going to go, or how he was going to survive, but he didn't care, because anywhere was better than Privet Drive. No more getting blamed for something Dudley had done; no more being locked in a cupboard, or having people stomp loudly above where he slept; finally he would get to taste freedom, and he knew it was going to taste sweet.

* * *

Uncle Vernon had already left for work the next morning by the time Petunia let Harry out of the cupboard. She didn't say a single word; she just glared at Harry particularly fiercely, and as soon as she saw that he was out, she stalked out of the hallway and into the bathroom.

The minute the door closed, Harry darted to the kitchen; pulling open the cupboard, he searched frantically for anything that he could take with him. The only thing he saw that didn't have to be cooked was a half-eaten pack of chocolate biscuits; he grabbed it and stuffed it into his school bag, then hurried out of the kitchen. He'd barely made back into the hall when Aunt Petunia exited the bathroom.

"Off you go," she snapped. "What are you dawdling for?"

Without another word, Harry turned his back on her and hurried for the front door. Goodbye, Aunt Petunia, he thought, and a wave of excitement passed through him. Goodbye, Uncle Vernon, goodbye, Dudley! Goodbye, Privet Drive, and the cupboard under the stairs! He passed the foot of the stairs and heard Dudley snoring loudly, which only made him more elated; it was going to in his favor greatly.

He burst through the front door, into the sunny day, breathing in the fresh air and the feeling of freedom. It was strange, not walking his usual route to school; but he intended never to walk that route again, so he supposed he'd just have to get used to it. As soon as he got far enough from his house, he slid his bag off his shoulder and hid it behind a bush, after removing the pack of biscuits; there would be no need for schoolbooks any longer.

After only a short while, his feet began to hurt him; but that was only because his shoes were far too small for him. He gritted his teeth and told himself that he must keep walking, just until he found someplace to hide for a few days.

Someplace no one would search for him.

* * *

It was growing late in the day. Harry had been walking for hours, and he was sure he'd have blisters when he took his shoes off. He was also extremely thirsty; he hadn't had as much as a drop of water in the last day and a half. He felt weary.

He was now coming near the neighborhood that his Aunt Marge used to live in. Aunt Marge was Uncle Vernon's sister, and she was nearly as fat and repulsive as her brother. Needless to say, she hated Harry, and he hated her.

However, in his younger days, his uncle had once driven Harry to see Aunt Marge. The visit hadn't ended well, but Harry still clearly remembered staring in awe at the houses on the street, so different from Privet Drive - which was, you must remember, the only street he was used to seeing. He had memorized them - big, grand houses (or so he thought) made of bricks.

One house, however, he did not remember at all; number fifty-two. It was at the end of a row, and it looked unkempt, abandoned and weather-beaten; but it also looked empty, and that was what Harry needed.

He hurried to the front door and found that it was, miraculously enough, unlocked. He let himself in and shut the door behind him, then glanced around the large front room. It looked rather as if a hurricane had passed through the room a long time ago, and no one had come back to fix the place up since it had happened. It was a complete mess, covered in a layer of dust. But it had a roof, and Harry was sure that nobody was going to search for him here; and that was all he cared about.

After further investigation, Harry found that the place still had running water, for which he was incredibly grateful; he spend a long time with his head underneath the faucet, drinking as much water as his stomach could hold. As for being hungry, for now he had the pack of biscuits.

If he rationed them properly, he was sure he could make them last a few days.

* * *

It was night time.

Harry had eaten two biscuits, cleared away some of the broken glass in the front room, and was ready to go bed. There was a large couch, which, once he brushed the dust off of it, made for an excellent place to sleep.

He was lying, curled up on the couch, and very nearly fast asleep, when he saw it.

Two large eyes were staring at him in the almost darkness.

Frozen, Harry held his breath, hardly daring to move, determined not to make a noise until he knew whose eyes they were.


	2. 3 Wise Creature & The Start of Panic

**Disclaimer: I Do Not Own Harry Potter.**

 **A massive thank you to my beta kenziescott54 for looking over, this story and improving.**

 **Thank you to everyone who has followed / favorited / read / reviewed the story so far.**

* * *

"Harry Potter!" said the eyes, reverently.

"Who are you?" Harry called out, shrinking back. "How do you know my name?"

The eyes advanced towards him, and a creature stepped out into the patch of dim moonlight that streamed through the broken window. It was the strangest looking thing Harry had ever seen; it was about half as tall as he was, with wizened, wrinkled skin and enormous eyes.

At first, Harry thought he was imagining things; but his imagination was nowhere near this creative, and he knew it. Left to his own, he probably would have imagined something much less strange looking and a great deal more sober; this creature smelled like Aunt Marge at Christmas, after she'd had too much brandy.

"What are you?" he asked. Now that he could see the creature, he was not quite so afraid; it looked entirely harmless. For one thing, it was so small, and for another, it was so drunk; but it looked incredibly sad, and its enormous eyes kept brimming over with tears.

"I is a House Elf," the creature squeaked. "My name is Quill. Little Miss gave me that name only weeks before they came and killed them all."

"What?"

"The Death Eater scum," said Quill, hiccuping. "But Harry Potter made them go away."

Harry had not the faintest idea what a House Elf was, what a Death Eater was, how Quill knew his name, or why he believed Harry had made these Death Eaters "go away." He wanted to grill the creature with questions, but his odd little face looked so sad that Harry thought that, for the time being at least, it would be rude.

"When the others get back," said Quill, its face - his face? her face? brightening with an unexpected smile, "they will be so glad to meet the Boy-Who-Lived!"

"The others?" Harry repeated. "Are they...er...House Elves too?" He chose, for now, to ignore the titled Quill had just given him, as it made no sense to him.

"No, no, no," Quill chuckled, with something close to delight. "Achan, he's a ghost, but don't ask him how he died; he gets very upset about it. And Maya - she's a Goblin."

Harry sat back. You must remember that he was only a child, and he accepted Quill's explanation as only a child could. He was still curious, of course, but he was no longer afraid, and it never occurred to him to distrust or disbelieve Quill.

"All right," he said. "But I'm very tired, Quill. I walked a long way today."

"Then Harry Potter must sleep!" said Quill anxiously. "Quill didn't meant to disturb Harry Potter!" He bowed, anxiously.

"It's fine, Quill," said Harry, and almost as soon as he said it, he was asleep.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore paced back and forwards in his office.

So far only four people in the Wizarding World knew Harry was missing - himself; Severus Snape; Kingsley Shacklebolt, a dedicated Auror; and Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic.

Albus knew that Severus and Kingsley would keep their mouths shut; but Fudge was unreliable. If it ever got out that Harry was missing, there would be wild rumours about what could have happened to him. The worst part about it all was that any of those rumors could be true, as Albus hadn't an inkling of what had really happened to Harry.

The boy's aunt and uncle had been about as helpful as a paper bag in place of a hat during a rainstorm. Harry had no friends, no other family; he was without money or food. He had nowhere to go.

Albus had considered that maybe, after all these years, a Death Eater still loyal to Voldemort could have had gotten hold of him; but he sure if that were the case, he was quite sure that he would have heard something about by now.

It was as if Harry had completely vanished of the face of the earth.

The thing that terrified Albus the most was that, for once, he had no idea what was to come next. He could not predict, or even guess, what was going to happen; for Harry's disappearance had never once entered his plans.

* * *

Harry blinked his eyes.

Sunlight was streaming into the front room, and a delicious smell was floating into the room.

For a moment, Harry lay still, trying to collect his sleep-addled thoughts. Then, quite suddenly he remembered: he had run away, he was in a deserted house, and he had met a strange creature called a House Elf the night before.

"I suppose that was all a dream," Harry murmured, rolling off the couch.

As he became fully aware of his surroundings, he realized that the smell - a smell of eggs, toast, and bacon - was very incongruous, for an empty deserted house, as were the clinking of silverware and the off-key singing of a voice he didn't know.

Harry hurried into the kitchen. Quill was going back and forth from pan to pan, singing loudly, cooking a feast fit for a king.

"Quill!" Harry said. So it hadn't been a dream at all!

"Harry Potter!" said Quill, happily. "Quill thought you might be hungry!"

Harry glanced at the food already steaming on a side table. He didn't know where Quill had gotten the ingredients from, as he certainly hadn't seen any food last night, but he was extremely grateful.

He offered Quill some food, because it didn't seem right to eat while Quill didn't; but the House Elf burst into tears.

"So generous, just like Little Miss, " it sobbed.

"You must miss her a lot," Harry said, softly.

The front door slammed loudly, and Harry jumped.

"It's Achan and Maya," said Quill, sniffing. Then it called loudly:

"Achan, Maya! Come here! Quill has found something to show you."

Harry had never met a Ghost or a Goblin before so he wasn't sure what he was expecting them to look like. Maya was short, with long sharp finger nails and a tiny gold hoop earring in her left ear; Achan had a young mischievous looking face.

"Well, well!" Achan said, looking hard at Harry. "from that scar, I'd say this must be the legendary Harry Potter!"

"Legendary? Why am I legendary?" asked Harry.

Achan, Maya and Quill stared at him in disbelief.

"Boy," said Maya, "there isn't a single wizard, creature, ghost, or...or portrait in the Wizarding world that doesn't know the story of Harry Potter! You mean to say you don't know it yourself?!"

"What does the name Voldemort mean to you, kid?" Achan asked, his eyes firmly fixed on Harry's confused face.

"I don't who that is," Harry confessed.

Achan, Quill and Maya were now all looking at each other.

"Well," said Maya finally, "you're in for a long night. We've got a story to tell you."

* * *

It was a long, terrible story: the rise of Lord Voldemort and his followers and how they killed anyone or anything that stood in their way - men, women and children, generations of family wiped out in seconds - it didn't bother them; how hope was fading at ever defeating him but fear and death touching everything and everyone; how a terrible thing that was also a wonderful miracle occurred the night Voldemort murdered James and Lily Potter; how, when he tried to kill Harry, the child had lived and Voldemort had not.

Harry was left with a scar, parentless, but alive, and he had saved the Wizarding World from Voldemort. In doing so, he had managed to do what powerful grown Witches and Wizards couldn't.

He was the only known person to survive the Killing Curse.

Through this horrible story, Harry learned that night who and what he really was; he was Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, a wizard and the child of wizards, a hero and the child of heroes, and he belonged to the Wizarding World.

* * *

"You promised me that staying with Petunia would keep him safe!" Severus hissed, his eyes brimming with rage. "Lily's son is missing - he could even be dead - and it's your fault!"

"I checked the list for the students who will attend Hogwarts in the future," said Dumbledore, calmly. "His name is still on that list, which as you know means he's still alive. Unfortunately there no longer an address to which we can send his acceptance letter." He didn't say it out loud, but he and Snape were both thinking it: when a wizard minor moved house, the Ministry always know where to find them.

"That makes me feel so much better," Severus snarled.

"I am concerned for the boy's safety just as much as you are," said Dumbledore quietly.

"No, you are worried that you have lost your only hope against Voldemort," said Severus, his eyes glittering. "That's all he is or ever will be to you, Albus."

* * *

 **AN2: Click that button and leave a review please**


	3. Cutting Ties

**Disclaimer: I Do Not Own Harry Potter.**

 **A massive thank you to kenziescott54 for betaing this.**

 **Thank you to everyone who has followed / favorited / read / reviewed the story so far.**

* * *

The very thing Dumbledore hadn't wanted to happen was happening.

The Daily Prophet had reported Harry was missing - who knew how they had found that out - and speculation was rife through the Wizarding world. It wasn't nine o'clock in the morning yet, and so far he'd been threatened by both Minerva and Poppy. Apparently, if, Harry got so much as a scratch, Dumbledore was going to find himself in great discomfort.

He didn't know why everyone was looking at him as if it were his fault Harry had disappeared.

He had set everyone he could trust on the case of trying to find him. So far the trail was cold; he'd left Privet Drive for school and never arrived. And that was all anyone had to go on.

* * *

So everything he thought he knew about his parents was a lie.

His parents hadn't died in a car accident, and the Dursleys had stooped so low as to keep how they really died from him. He could just about forgive them for not telling him he was a Wizard, but the lies about his parents were unforgivable, because it wasn't just Harry they fed their lies to. Everyone who knew the Dursleys believed that his dad was a workshy drunk and his mum was weak in the head.

But not a word of it was true.

Finding out the truth left Harry torn between anger and sadness. Anger at the Dursleys, and sad at how long it had taken for him to find out the truth.

He was sad that it had taken this long for him to find out the truth. That not one of his parents friends had bothered to visit him over the years to tell him the truth.

His new friends, sensing his distress, respectfully kept their distance for a while, letting Harry think on his own. After a while, though, Quill came creeping to Harry's side and whispered,

"If Harry Potter is quite well now, Quill and his friends would like some help with a business venture?"

* * *

For the last two years Maya had been selling "Priceless Goblin Made Artifacts" to someone called Lucius Malfoy. In reality, this Lucius was forking out a fortune for scrap metal that had been melted down and made into weapons, jewelry, and other things. Apparently, only goblins could tell the difference between real goblin made items and fakes, and as Maya was a goblin, she was able to convince Lucius that she really knew what she was talking about.

The latest thing Lucius had asked Maya to get him, however, was not an artifact at all. It was an elixir, made by Goblins, that was illegal for Wizards to have. It was supposed to help him with something.

Harry tried to find out from Achan exactly what the elixir was supposed to do, but Achan refused to tell him. "You're not old enough, lad," he kept saying. "I'll tell you when you've become a bit more...ah...mature."

"I'm quite mature enough now!" Harry protested.

"You are not!" said Achan, looking uncomfortable. "Perhaps I'll tell you when you hit….er, puberty."

Of course, Harry's friends weren't planning give Lucius the real thing, and it was Harry's job to pick the grossest things he could find to go into the elixir. He knew that they were including him to try and cheer him up, and he was extremely grateful; he set himself to his task with a will.

"So, what've you chosen?" asked Achan gleefully. Harry had always imagined ghosts to be sad, miserable, mourning things; but Achan was nothing like that. He was the most lighthearted and cheery of the entire party.

"I've got rat droppings, mustard from the back of the pantry - I dunno how old it is, looks ancient - a tonic to help with constipation, toothpaste and a jar of hair potion," answered Harry, looking at the label on the last item. "Gives life to the dullest of locks."

"Great job, Harry!" Achan said, almost exultantly. He seemed to be extremely pleased at the idea of Lucius Malfoy drinking a horrible potion that wasn't going to do what he wanted at all. "Now Quill will make this up, Maya will give it to Malfoy, and I'll see if I can teach you about the finest game to be invented. It's called Quidditch."

* * *

Once the bottle had been emptied, Quill had charmed it on Maya's command to show a message where the label had been. As it turned out, the bottle was found by Lucius' wife, whose name was Narcissa, because her husband was occupied on the toilet. She gave the bottle to Severus, who was now reading the label to Dumbledore.

 _Dear Murdering Scumbag - or may I just call you Lucius,_

 _If you are reading this then you drank some of that Elixir. Hopefully you are having some horrible side effects. I feel that our association has how run its course. My biggest regret is that you were not of the three Death Eaters I killed._

 _Maya_

 _P.S I find it quite amusing that the Boy-Who-Lived also had a hand in this._

"So Harry is with the goblin Maya?" Dumbledore mused aloud.

"It would seem so, Headmaster," answered Severus.

"Well, no one knows where she is hiding. The important thing, Severus, is that we can be relatively sure that Harry is safe. This goblin, Maya, hates the Dark Lord; he was responsible for wiping out her family."

"I have heard about what she did to the Death Eaters involved," Severus answered sullenly. "And from what Narcissa told me, Lucius wants that goblin's head on served on a silver platter for this. Really, how safe can she keep Harry?"

"I am sure," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling, "that once Lucius' hair grows back and he is able to leave the toilet, he will calm down considerably."


	4. Where you belong

**Disclaimer: I Do Not Own Harry Potter.**

 **Thank you to kenziescott54 for improving this.**

 **Thank you to everyone who has followed / favorited / read / reviewed the story so far.**

* * *

"Achan," Maya snapped, "no one knows about our connection to Quill. We're quite safe! Stop your endless griping, or I'll kill you, I will!"

"I'm already dead, love," said Achan, with a cocky grin. "I have been for quite a long time, so that little threat just doesn't work on me, sorry. And I'm getting on at you because you've got almost every Auror in Britain looking for us - half because they now know Harry Potter is with you, and half because Malfoy wants you dead. They already know I'm with you; people have seen us together, you know."

"They've known we were friends for ages, Achan - that changes nothing, I still don't see what the big deal is -"

"You didn't have to leave a note, you could have pretended the side effects were because he was human!"

"Do these two often bicker like this?" Harry whispered to Quill.

"They cannot help themselves," Quill whispered back, "but they are really the best of friends, Harry Potter." Just as he said this, Maya growled and grabbed a red cushion of the floor, ripped it to shreds then stormed out of the room.

"You know, if you're going destroy something every time you get angry then you can pay for it yourself!" Achan yelled after her.

* * *

To pass the time, Achan sometimes told Harry stories about when he was alive; how he was born to a Pureblood mother but had a Muggle father, so that when his father died his mother remarried a wealthy Pureblood who wasn't willing to raise a half blood child.

At the age of eight he was sent away to live with his ailing Muggle grandmother, who hated the name his mother had given him and got it into her head that he needed a new one. It was his stealing that got him the name Achan. By the time he went to Hogwarts he refused to go by anything else.

His second year, his grandmother died, and he was sent to an orphanage. He ran away, of course, and didn't bother to return for Hogwarts his third year. No one bothered to look for him, either. Completely alone, he eventually found his way to the place where all those who weren't wanted; he found refuge where the lowest of the lowest went - Knockturn Alley, the place where you could buy anything dark or forbidden for the right price.

All this had happened two hundred and fifteen years before Harry was born. Yet the way Achan told his stories, it could have all happened yesterday. Achan told it all as if it had been a great adventure, but Harry couldn't help but think that it couldn't quite have been as rosy as all that. He was also quite curious about how Achan had died, but he didn't ask; mainly because Quill had warned him not to. He didn't want to upset Achan, and in so doing risk losing the only friends that he had ever had.

* * *

It was dinner time, and Harry was enjoying a big plateful of mashed potatoes and sausages. If he was to be honest, there was far too much on his plate; but Quill seemed so happy having a human to cook for again that Harry didn't have the heart to tell him so.

He had come to find that mealtimes were the perfect opportunity to study his three new friends without making it evident that he was studying them. Achan was dead, and so couldn't eat food; but he still enjoyed being around it. Maya, while herself and her family had been far too close to witches and wizards for comfort of other Goblins, would not eat in front of Harry. Maya would not say so, but Achan told Harry that it was their closeness to wizardkind that had ultimately made them a target for Voldemort.

Quill would excitedly nibble on bits of food that Harry would insist the Elf eat. Quill would then wash the bits of food down with any alcohol he could find. He had two moods when drunk: extremely depressed or overly happy. Harry liked happy drunk Quill a great deal better than depressed drunk Quill. Sometimes he even found the happy drunk version of the elf better than the sober one, as Quill could be quite merry.

When he was depressed, however, nothing could cheer him up. He would curl up and bawl loudly, wailing something or other about "Little Miss," and when Harry tried to comfort him, he would only say, "Harry Potter is very good to poor Quill - but he did not know Little Miss!"

Eventually, Maya explained to Harry why Quill acted this way. "House Elves, they're born to serve," she told him. "Quill's family has been serving the family who lived here for centuries."

Quill had been a great favorite of the Little Miss; she loved him, and he loved her in return; so greatly that he let her rename him. The day the Death Eaters had come, Quill had been picking out sweets for Little Miss; he had returned home to find the house broken into, trashed and empty, with not a single living thing inside.

It was these bits of information that eventually made Harry begin to understand that what he brought into the trio's life was just as valuable as what they brought into his. He was the boy who had lost his parents and had never had a friend; Achan, the boy his mother threw away because she thought him impure; Quill, the devoted servant who'd lost everyone he loved, and Maya the hardened Goblin whose entire family was gone because they were willing to stand against the Dark Lord.

They were a motley crew, these four, but they were incredibly good for each other; and Harry began to realize it, and to be very glad and happy indeed.

 **AN: It has been suggested that it would be good for Harry to a friend his own age group and I was wondering how many others agreed and if so which Canon character do you believe should be added as his friend.**


	5. Whispers in the night

**Disclaimer: I Do Not Own Harry Potter.**

 **Thank you to kenziescott54 for fixing the mistakes/improving this.**

 **Thank you to everyone who has followed / favorited / read / reviewed the story so far.**

* * *

Harry was positively itching to go outside.

But he knew that the Aurors in the Wizarding world were searching for him, because when Quill (who was really now the only member of the four who could show his face in public) went out to buy food, he heard rumors about Harry Potter's disappearance. And Harry could assume as well that his disappearance at home had been discovered by the authorities by now, which meant the Muggle police were searching for him as well.

Because of this, his three friends told him over and over again that he must at all costs stay inside the house. Achan had told him that, yes, there were potions and spells that could disguise his identity, but unfortunately there were also ways for other wizards to detect those spells, or to force him to tell the truth about who he was.

Harry suggested that he just use one of the spells to go out at least into the Muggle world, but his friends refused; they couldn't go with him, and anyway Harry had a nagging fear that if he wasn't with at least one of them at all times, he was going to lose them all forever.

He wasn't exactly sure why he felt this way, but he did, and it was enough to keep him inside.

* * *

One night, when Harry had very nearly dropped off to sleep, he heard a whispered conversation between Achan, Maya and Quill. He immediately cocked his ears to hear what they were saying.

"It's obvious that he can't stay indoors forever and the back garden isn't safe for him to go outside with all that junk out there," Achan said, quietly.

"If he leaves us," Maya said, "he'll more than likely end up getting taken away again by those Muggles. And I refuse to let that happen," she added; Harry heard the sound of a ripping cushion as she said it. "I wouldn't treat the child of my worst enemy the way they treated him."

"That's the sixth cushion you've destroyed in less than two days," remarked Achan.

"Quill knows a place where no one hardly ever goes," Quill interjected, before the two could start a squabble. "Used to have picnics with Little Miss all the time there." Here Harry heard a hiccup, along with the sound of an elfish nose being blown very loudly. He hoped Quill wasn't going to start crying again.

"What does 'hardly anyone' mean, exactly?" Achan asked cautiously.

"Quill has seen the odd person meeting there to do business," said the elf. "But that is only because it is out of the way! There is nothing there of interest. No one really goes there on purpose. Quill has heard from his masters that it has something to do with creatures that died there...a battle between Goblins and Wizards…"

"I know just the place you're talking about," Maya interrupted, in a tone of pure disgust. "No one actually won that battle, you know. It was just a pointless blood bath."

"But no one goes there?" Achan asked.

"No," said Maya shortly. "No one of our kind, anyway, and no wizards either. I know I've never been."

"And there is very few Muggles," Quill piped up.

.

"Well, if it really is out of the way, perhaps we could all go there tomorrow afternoon," Achan began.

"You're insane!" snapped Maya. "There's no way I'm going there, not with that place's history."

"Maya," said Achan, "be reasonable. Harry hasn't been out of the house in days, and that's a hard thing for a young boy. We must allow him to go somewhere. No, no, listen," he added as Maya started to protest again. "There's nowhere else we know of that's safe, Maya. Come on."

There was a long silence, during which Harry almost held his breath in anticipation.

"Fine," snarled Maya. "But I'm only doing it for the boy."

Harry smiled in the dark.

* * *

Author's Note: This was a filler chapter until I write the next chapter where Harry will either Hermione or Luna.


End file.
